Smoke and Mirrors
by natterjack
Summary: When an old theatrical acquaintance, who has made quite a name for herself, is found dead in the Thames, Henry Gordon Jago and Professor Litefoot are drawn into a time-travelling, dimension-hopping, clash of empires and worlds.
1. Chapter 1

**Smoke and Mirrors**

 _Chapter 1_

"Now Ellie, I'm sure that Mr Jago didn't mean it like that at all, did you Henry?"

"Eh? Well, all I meant was that a _well-managed_ hostelry wouldn't keep– Ow! What'd you do that for, Litefoot?"

"All Mr Jago meant was that the _Red Tavern_ 's cellar is second to none and that he appreciates how difficult it is to keep it so, and how hard you work to maintain those paramount standards."

Ellie's knuckles were still white on her hips, and Litefoot could see that he had done little to mollify her. He was about to try again when a diversion presented itself. A familiar figure emerged from the lively fug of the lounge behind her and the professor grasped the opportunity at once, leaving Ellie no chance to resume her attack.

"Ah, Inspector Quick! What a pleasure to see you. Are you on duty, or can I offer you a drink? It's so hard to tell since your promotion."

"Very kind of you I'm sure Professor. Miss Higson. Mr Jago." Quick removed his billycock and slicked his hair back into place as he reached the table and acknowledged the others. "But I am indeed on duty, I'm afraid."

Ellie's mood softened a little with Quick's arrival and, since it seemed that he would not be ordering, she bustled to clear the empties from the nearby booths, brusquely snatching the drained tankard from Jago as she did.

"Hmm, well from the looks of you that duty is about to involve us, I'll wager." Jago offered, "What is it this time, Quick? Spurious spectres stalkin' the streets of Spittalfields? Monstrous mannequins murderin' members of parlia-"

"Henry, do you mind?" interrupted the professor, giving his friend a severe look. "Now, Inspector, if you're sure that we can't offer you some refreshment…", he paused for confirmation, "then how may we be of assistance? Assuming that we can?"

"Well, yes, Professor, I'm certainly hoping that you can. I realise that it's an unusual hour to ask but now that I've found you I'd very much like you to come along with me to the mortuary. I've got a carriage outside."

Litefoot peered across the smoky bar at the clock. "It is a peculiar hour for that, indeed. What - or should I say _who_ \- am I likely to find there at this time that won't wait until morning?"

"Yes, it's not like they'll be wantin' to get off home to bed or out to a late night performance, now is it, not the usual customers?" Jago added, "At least I should hope not."

"If you don't mind, Professor, Mr. Jago, I'd rather not go into that until we get there. The thing is," he glanced around and leant low over the table, dropping his voice to a confidential hiss, "there are certain elements of the press – and others – who would be very interested if they were to hear of this um… incident, and the Chief would very much like to have the… details settled before they gets wind of it."

"I see. Very well, Inspector, I suppose that I'd better come along." George Litefoot rose from the table and gathered up his overcoat, cane and hat. He turned back to drain the last of his glass. "Henry, I'll speak to you tomorrow, I expect-"

"I'd like Mr. Jago to come along with us too, if you'd be so good?", Quick interjected, turning to the other man.

"Me?" Jago's eyebrows shot upward. "In the mortuary at this time o' night? Whatever for? No, no, the Professor's your man for that. He'll relay the details in due course. Pass on the particulars and press the peculiar perspicacity of Henry Gordon Jago into action on the morrow. I'm no good late at night y'know."

"I'm afraid it's a question of identification, Mr. Jago.", countered the Inspector. "I understand that you may have encountered the… individual concerned in the past, in a professional capacity. We'd very much like to confirm the identity as soon as we can, and you may be one of the few people in a position to do that. We're making other enquiries, but still…"

"Oh. Oh lumme. I see". Henry looked about him, and glanced towards the bar. "Well then… I suppose there's no chance of a quick snifter before we go?"

~~oOo~~

It did not take long for the Constabulary growler to reach its destination, and Jago and Litefoot had learned very little more of the case from Quick by the time that they were walking the echoing, whitewashed corridor toward the mortuary itself.

The Inspector had divulged that the river patrol had pulled a body from the Thames - near Blackfriars - earlier that evening. There was evidently something quite distinctive about the appearance of the corpse, which had resulted in considerable speculation among the men involved, and yet Quick remained close-mouthed about the details of this "distinctive" appearance, or any likely cause of death, or even the sex of the "individual" concerned. Litefoot endeavoured to contain his curiosity. Henry Gordon Jago did not.

"…man, woman or child? Oh Lor! A nipper! Some fearsome devil of the deep half-devourin' a poor innocent little tyke. I don't think I can bring myself to look. George, I'll wait here. Be a good fellow and just describe what you can to me through the door, would you? Oh, but not the… the… _pathological_ bits, please!"

"Don't take on so, Mr. Jago." Quick reassured him, "It's nothing like that. Not at all. The body is quite intact and, well, peaceful I suppose you'd say." He opened the door for the professor to enter.

"Yes, come along Henry. We've seen some hideous things over the years, I know, but I doubt that anything here will come close. Surely Henry Gordon Jago is made of sterner stuff?"

Henry Gordon Jago's silence was not so sure,

The ceiling globes were already lit, but burning only dimly. The professor hung up his overcoat, hat and jacket before donning a large vulcanized-rubber apron. As he did, Quick pulled at the nearer of the overhead globes' chain, and the mantle flared brightly.

In the centre of the white-tiled room stood the monumental, tomblike autopsy table. A figure lay upon it, draped from head to toe with a stained and heavy canvas. As it was revealed by the light, Jago drew a startled breath of the chill air. His nose flared at the tang of formaldehyde and carbolic. _Lifebouy! A bit late for that_.

Litefoot finished tying his apron and rolled back his shirt-sleeves as he approached the covered form. Jago noticed a small pool of grimy water that had formed below one side of the table. Another drip rippled the surface of the pool as he watched. At last, the professor reached up to pull down the cover. "So what poor unfortunate have you brought us to examine tonight?" He turned the top of the thick cloth back to reveal the figure's head and shoulders.

A ridged and hairless skull lay uncovered. The jade-green scales covering head and face dully glistened with Thames-water. The face was delicate, almost beautiful, but inhuman and predatory, even in death.

Jago, at last, came forward. "Vastra? _Madame_ Vastra!". He stared down at the sightless eyes. "Corks!"


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

"Madame Vastra? The great detective? Good Lord!" Litefoot pulled more of the canvas back and let it drop, leaving the reptilian form uncovered to the waist. She was wearing a military styled tunic. It was the tunic of a senior officer, unless he was mistaken, although he did not recognize the regiment or many of the insignia at all. The colour of the fabric was an olive green, darker, since it was wet, no doubt, and not dissimilar to that of the scales covering her face. Perhaps an Indian regiment, then: some had adopted a colour of this sort he recalled. It seemed intact and in good condition other than a burned and blackened area below her ribs. "Henry, you knew her? I had no idea. I never had the privilege myself."

"Yes. Years ago, though. Not long after she arrived in London, as I remember: long before she set up as a consulting detective. It must be.. ohh, the best part of twenty years gone now. She was the star turn in one of m'first shows in the old Palace. Astonishin' acrobat, and knife-thrower too, quite besides her looks."

"So this _is_ her, Mr Jago. You're quite certain?" Quick asked.

"What? Oh yes, it's her. She's hardly changed at all."

"Hardly changed?" Litefoot broke in once more, looking up from his initial examination, "Henry, do you mean to say that she has always looked… well, like this?"

"Oh yes. ' _The Amazing Lizard Lady'_ , that's how she was billed, and there was no fakery to it."

"Extraordinary! I'd heard that she suffered from some medical condition, but I didn't realise…" the professor trailed off.

"We didn't think that there was much doubt about it, on account of that," Quick explained, "and Gregson was fairly sure, but-"

The Inspector was interrupted by a voluble exchange coming from the corridor. The voices were muffled at first, but seconds later the mortuary door crashed open, and a broad, squat, dome-headed figure strode in.

"Drop your weapons, Human scum, and prepare to- Aha, there she is." The newcomer lowered the item – seemingly part crossbow, part ear-trumpet - that he had been holding in front of him, and placed it on an instrument tray.

As he moved further into the room, a much taller, and altogether more normal looking, man followed him through the door. "As I told you, Mr. Strax, no-one is resisting your entrance. Quite the opposite, in fact." Inspector Gregson nodded a greeting to Quick, and moved to introduce Mr Strax to the others. It was quite clear, however, that Strax was not listening, so he shook hands with Jago and the professor himself, instead, as the odd, dwarfish newcomer took off his Inverness cape and produced another, equally extraordinary, device from a pocket.

Activating with a rising series of beeps, several appendages and tools telescoped out of the complex, button covered box that Mr. Strax now held out towards the lifeless figure on the table.

Litefoot stepped sharply to interpose himself between Strax and the table. "Now wait one moment, my good fellow. As the pathologist called in to examine this unfortunate lady's remains, might I ask who you are and what, exactly, you intend to do with this… thing?"

Strax paused, eyeing the professor up and down, then stepped quickly to one side, jabbing the box closer towards the body as he did. Litefoot followed, blocking his way once again.

"Miss, kindly step out of my way! I am genetically programmed for all combat medic and nursing functions, and am currently in service to Madame Vastra. One of my primary duties is to determine, at all times, whether she is alive or dead."

"Well really! I understand that you are concerned for your mistress - although I'm not sure that I understood much else - but-"

"It's just his manner of speaking, Professor." Inspector Gregson spoke up from behind Strax, discretely rotating a finger at his forehead, "Mr Strax is a um… foreigner, I believe, and has his little ways."

"Hmm, very well." Litefoot replied. He turned his attention back to the whirring device that Strax carried. "Now what exactly _is_ this mechanism?"

Although the professor did his best to follow Strax's subsequent explanation of the device's many functions, his final conclusion was only that Strax, at least, believed it to be a very useful aid in diagnosis and uncovering something of the subject's medical history. Having encountered a good many extraordinary mechanical and electrical wonders over the years, he eventually agreed its use and to a joint examination of the body with Mr Strax.

It did not take them long to confirm that the body – that Madame Vastra – was indeed quite dead. Litefoot had had little doubt of that even following his brief initial examination. This was no time for a full autopsy, but if Strax's device was to be believed, and from Litefoot's own observations, then it seemed that Vastra had died only a few hours previously, she had been dead before she entered the water, and the cause of death seemed to be the scorched, blackened patch on her midriff.

"A primitive but effective neutron blaster." Strax decided, after consulting the readings from his diagnostic tool, "Massive internal trauma resulting in instant and total death. A splendid weapon and an honourable death. I will begin arrangements for a dignified tissue recycling service."

He stepped back from the table, and operated a switch on the device, which then folded in on itself to an impossible degree. Strax slipped it into a pocket and moved toward the door, reaching for his Inverness. "I must go at once and report this to her."

"To whom, Mr Strax?" Litefoot enquired.

"To Madame Vastra, of course."

Jago and Inspector Quick exchanged glances. "But," said Litefoot, "have we not determined that _this_ is Madame Vastra's body?"

"Indeed. She will be most intrigued." Strax collected his crossbow-device from its tray as he spoke.

"Are you then saying that Vastra is alive? That this is some doppleganger?"

"Oh no, it is her. Now please stand aside Miss, I must return to the command bunker. Scalpel mines do not arm themselves!" He turned smartly, broad cape swirling around him, and swept through the doorway.

Litefoot followed him into the corridor, with Jago, Gregson and Quick hot on his heels. "Mr Strax," he called out, "if you are truly expecting to speak to 'Madame Vastra' about this, as you say, I think that we would very much like to accompany you." The others chorused their puzzled agreement.

"Impossible! Permitting human civilians into a grade 3 potential combat sector is strictly against the Mistress's orders. Unless as bio-weapons, or emergency rations, of course."

"I say, Mr. Strax, are you really sure that she'd not want to see an old theatrical acquaintance again?" Jago interjected. He was struggling to keep up with events and more than a little concerned about the mention of battles and weaponry, but eager to pursue this mystery. "To precis a prior professional partnership and peruse proud performances from the past? It's been such a long time, and I'd dearly like to pay my respects to the good lady in person, especially since she's err… departed from the mortal coil, as it seems."

Strax paused and turned back to them, bringing out the diagnostic scanner once more. "You have worked with Madame Vastra in the past, have you?" He activated it and thrust it towards Jago, peering through a glowing eyeglass that had sprouted from it. "Interesting!"

Jago drew back from the beeping mechanism in alarm but, as he recovered and started to elaborate on his past involvement with madame Vastra, Strax turned his attention - and the device - towards Litefoot.

The professor, too, recoiled, but quickly recovered and defiantly thrust out his chin. "I can assure you, Mr Strax, should you have any doubt, that neither Mr Jago nor I are in any sense dead. You do not need this contrivance to confirm that!"

"You, and you, have an active chronal resonance." Strax said, indicating Jago and Litefoot, "You may accompany me to Madame Vastra's residence." He briefly waved the device at Quick and Gregson. "But not you or you."

The Inspectors both began to object, with Gregson, particularly, adamant that further official investigation demanded visiting the house in Paternoster Row. Strax however, was firm in his decision, and began to stride off once more.

Seeing that Mr. Strax was unlikely to be persuaded further, Professor Litefoot spoke up. "We'd better do as Mr Strax asks, I think, inspector. Mr Jago and I will see if we can get to the bottom of this and we'll let you know as soon as we do. Oh Mr. Strax? Mr Strax? We'll be with you in just a moment. We're on our way!"

Strax had reached the end of the corridor and left the double doors to swing to with an echoing slam. Litefoot dashed back to the mortuary door and hurriedly hung his apron back on its peg. Jago followed and together they juggled with Litefoot's jacket and cane, and both their coats and hats as they hurried down the passage in pursuit of the strange foreign dwarf.


End file.
